Finding What You're Looking For...

Sometimes, as I read posts on social networking sites, I just want to scream.  People ranting about everything that is wrong in this world.  People who know what they want to know and nothing else.  Yes, I could scream, but that’s not what I do….I stop reading them instead.  I read things I totally disagree with, yet I am not willing to comment.  Why?  That’s where those people are looking, and they don’t want to change..

We find what we are looking for….

In the past, I was somewhat of a Negative Nellie.  I would have a performance evaluation at work and, typically, I would forget the 99 good things and focus on the 1 thing that needed “improvement.”  I didn’t need a manager to tell me what was wrong with me, I already knew.  And so, I was nearly crushed under the weight of the negative comment.

Not such a great way to live, believe me.  It’s okay to be sensitive and caring, but having such thin skin was quite detrimental to my everyday existence.  I was constantly criticizing myself for my mistakes, or my failures, or my inadequacies.  And I usually found some way to improve the source of the negative comment.

And then something happened…

To say “I got older” is too simplistic.  As I grew older, I began to be kinder to myself and more lenient with my mistakes.  Why?  Perhaps because I was starting to realize that, good or bad, I am who I am.  As the positivity started infecting me, I began to be more forgiving and more tolerant of myself.

I changed what I was looking for…

Taking five minutes each day to look around and find the positives started changing my life….and me.  The glass started being half instead of half empty.  The sky was bluer.  The birds now sing louder.  My prayers are full of gratitude instead of supplications.  I woke up and realized that I am in a really good place now.

I can’t take full credit for my change of philosophy.  I owe a huge debt to the wonderful man who came into my life.  No, he didn’t make me happier, I did.  I firmly believe that we are each responsible for our own happiness…

All he did was love me.  Just the way I am flaws and all.  And I started to like myself better, too.  Yes, I do love him, but I also love me when I am around him.  He helped me see myself as he sees me, instead of in the negative light that I was used to…

I know that there is a war raging in many parts of the world.  I know that children go to bed hungry.  Innocent people are murdered.  Or robbed.  Or enslaved.  Famine, drought, hunger, poverty, political machinations, slavery, dishonesty….it’s all around us.

 

And so are miracles.  And random acts of kindness.  And people who are willing to go out of their way to help others.  People making a difference.  Just as I try to make a difference in some small, meaningful way. 

That’s what I find when I go looking…

Happy Birthday, Matthew...

What do you say to someone you haven’t seen in eight years?  How do you explain all that has happened since he left?  Or all that happened when he was younger?  How do you communicate with children who speak Italian?  What is there to say, after all these years?

Today is my younger son’s birthday.  I sent him a birthday wish on Facebook.  I think about him all the time, and even more so on his birthdays and holidays.  It’s tough: we don’t communicate well.  Not just Matthew and me, but all of us in our family.  Most of us don’t like to talk on the phone, don’t write letters, don’t Skype, and then regret that we don’t do it.

Sending him a package costs nearly fifty dollars.  A phone call isn’t much cheaper, either.  Ah, excuses, right?  Yes.  And more.  I am not sure I could talk to him on the phone without crying.  I know I would not be able to explain my tears to him, either.

I feel as if part of me is gone, broken, or lost.  I feel the need to reconnect with my son but I cannot do it by myself.  I have tried sending an email to all three of my kids, hoping it would spark an interest in communicating with each other.  We could just “reply all” and share our day-to-day life with each other.  Didn’t happen…

I tell myself that, even though I don’t hear from Matt, he does love me and miss me, too.  I tell myself that it is just the Great Communication Barrier that keeps us from getting in touch with each other.  I tell myself that it is my duty, as a parent, to keep the lines of communication open with my kids.  And I tell myself that I’m not doing a very good job.

Why?  I don’t really know.  Maybe it is just easier to miss him desperately than to tell him and make him feel bad.  I know he’s busy, I know his life is full with family, work, and whatever else he chooses to do with his time.

And I tell myself that we are going to sit down and have a chat about it.  Soon.  I will tell him how much I love him and miss him and that I wish I could find a way to keep in touch with him.  I will tell him stories about when he was growing up and how he delighted us with his wit and wisdom.

And I will apologize for hurting his feelings when he was 7.  He rode his bicycle all the way out to his grandparent’s house (8 miles away) because I said something that hurt him and he wanted Grandma to comfort him.  I will ask him to forgive me for being unkind because I didn’t really mean to be…

I will hug him and spend some quality time with him.

He’s coming home to visit June 18^th……

Cali

Farewell....

What can I say?  My heart hurts right now.  A beautiful lady who was a huge part of my life for nearly forty years has died….

  

She has had Alzheimer’s disease for more than a decade and didn’t even recognize her own sons when they came to see her.  I know it was hard on them because my ex-husband (her first-born son) and I have talked about it.

My daughter told me today that she is saddened, too.  She thought she “shouldn’t be” because Grandma has been gone from all of us for a long, long time.  As I told her, the fact is that we are never prepared to lose a loved one, no matter how imminent the death might be.

She’s gone.  How can that be?  It isn’t fair, that’s for sure.  She was more to me than a mother-in-law; she was my Other Mother.   She was my shelter from the storm of my relationship with my own mother.  She was everything I wished my mother had been: kind, caring, gentle, loving and approachable.  As odd as it might sound, my mother was never approachable……  Yet my Other Mother was always there for me, as I tried to be for her.

Walking in the orange groves, after supper, so many years ago when I was pregnant with my first child, we would talk.  My husband worked evenings and my in-laws invited me out to their ranch for supper at least one night a week.  So, we talked.  We walked along a row of orange trees highlighted by the setting sun and she answered my questions about my pregnancy.

Over and over again, I asked her to tell me about “labor” and what I would be going through.  I asked her what things I needed to have on hand before the baby came home from the hospital.  And I listened in amazement as she described how I would feel when I saw my baby for the first time.

And she nailed it…

I remember after Steve and I separated that  she hoped we would reconcile.  She even “set us up” by asking each of us to come out to the ranch and help her on a Saturday afternoon.  I hadn’t seen Steve in a while as he was dating someone else and so was I….

It was hard to see her so desperate to fix something that was irretrievably broken, and neither of us could get mad at her for trying so hard.  And neither of us was in a place to try to fix it.  It was over, but NOT my relationship with my Other Mother.

She continued to be my friend and called me frequently to see how I was doing.  After her husband died, she called me and asked me to come by and see her.  She had a gift for me: a beautiful, dark red flower vase.   She wanted me to have something of hers to remember her by.

As if I needed an object to remind me of her…..

And now she’s gone.  Gone to a place where she is whole again and not suffering.  We are left with our memories—wonderful memories—of a beautiful woman, a beautiful person.  We will talk about her often, sharing stories and remembering her with much love and affection.

 

And shed some tears, too….

Cali

The Christmas Gift.....

As I decorated the house for Christmas yesterday, I thought about something that happened nearly twenty years ago. And every year since then, when I unwrap the figurines for my Nativity scene, I think of the same event.

Way back then, I was setting up the Nativity scene before Christmas. Since there would be “little ones” in the house for Christmas, I chose to put the Nativity scene on the mantle. We had a corner fireplace made of brick, including the mantle.

As I thought about where it came from, unwrapping each figurine and placing it “just so” in the manger or surrounds, I dropped the figurine I was unwrapping at the moment. It bounced with a sickening “ping” on the brick hearth and then on to the carpet. 

I gasped and tears welled up in my eyes. My mother hadn’t been gone all that long and I was devastated to have broken something so special that she had given me. I closed my eyes and decided that, no matter how broken it was, I would glue it back together and continue to use it.

It’s now been forty-one Christmases ago that my mother gave me the Nativity scene. She bought it for me at a little gift shop here in Podunk. It was, and still is, a link to my mother and our family traditions. I have never seen another Nativity like mine: pure white ceramic figurines made by Hummel. They came with a simplistic manger and a gold tin star. 

Even if there were readily available replacements, it just wouldn’t be the same.

Slowly, I bent down and picked up the fallen figurine. It was the Virgin Mary. My tears made it hard to see, so I felt her outstretched hand with my fingers: still there. I felt the base: still complete. I ran my hand over all her surfaces: no chips, nothing missing.

Full of hope, and with my tears dried, I looked at her under a very strong light. Not even a crack, anywhere. I was utterly dumbfounded. How could a small ceramic figurine, with outstretched hand, fall so far, hit so hard and not be broken?

Christmas miracles come in all sizes and shapes, I guess….


Cali

On Failure....

“You weren't created to be a failure.” I just read that on Facebook. I don't know who wrote it, but I like it.

It's like saying: “God don't make no junk!” I like that, too.

I think it begins with me. Instead of seeing what I cannot do, I must look at what I can do. Where do my talents lie? What contribution can I make to the world around me? How can I promote peace and harmony in this life?

And so, I will be me. A kind and gentle me. Loving, comforting, supportive, and forgiving. Of myself and of all others.

It feels good already....

Cali

A New Year....

It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's even a new decade: the second one in a new millennium!

Such an auspicious day and date should not be taken lightly. I need to have plans. Hopes. Dreams. Goals. Resolutions? I don't think so....

What I wish for myself, I wish for you, too: Happiness, Peace, Contentment with your place in life, Love, Honor and Joy in the little things. It's the little things that comprise the big things, I think.

May you find just enough peanut butter to make yourself a sandwich, just enough sunshine to plant a garden full of flowers, just enough rain to nourish your soul, and abundant laughter to make everything it touches worthwhile.

Happy New Year, All!

Cali

Family Ties....

It's quiet now. The “little one” spent the night at her cousins' house. Today, she will go visit with her cousins' cousins. She is quite excited about it: she bought Christmas gifts for them.

We have had a talk recently about “family” and the concept of family. She is an only child, so she readily adopts people as members of her family. Her version of the meaning of family. 

I want her to understand the difference, if there is any, between familial relationships and friendly relationships.

I don't want her to get hurt....

She has room in her heart for the entire world, probably. She loves people and loves being with people and all she wants is to be loved in return.

Don't we all want that?

Cali

My Quiet Place.....

It has been a very busy day. Driving on crowded highways in the pouring rain. Very busy. And a little unnerving, at times.


But it's over now. We're home, settled in to the early evening, pursuing our own interests.


I am trying to find my quiet place. That place where the troubling thoughts of the day seem to fade away, never to return. A place where simple, peaceful, happy thoughts pervade and prevail.


And here it is. Not physically, as it can happen anywhere. But here, and now, as I rest and remember the day. The thoughts in my head make me smile. The “secrets” that will be revealed Christmas Day. Knowing that soon, family will gather and hugs and kindness will abound.


The world around us will recede and the light and life in this house will be felt and enjoyed by everyone who is here, physically or in spirit. Far and wide, the influences of those who have touched our lives will warm our hearts and brighten the day.


The troubles in life melt away and Love reigns supreme.


Merry Christmas, All!


Cali

Star Light, Star Bright....

Today is the last day of quiet solitude until Christmas. Tomorrow, the Munchkin arrives. With a bag full of clothes, and a heart full of happiness, she will bring the house back to life.


Sure, there's life here all the time. Quiet, measured moments of living and breathing and being. It's a cheerful place to be, but mostly at a lower level and a slower pace.


She emailed me last night, saying that she can hardly wait for Christmas. There were about a hundred exclamation points at the end of the sentence. That's Noelle, and this is her holiday, exclamation points and all.


It's a symbiotic thing: she brings spirited enthusiasm to the house, and we help her harness it. She will visit with her cousins, help Grandma bake cookies, and just enjoy what the season brings. For every busy activity, there will be some quiet time. Some time of renewal. She will read, and draw, and write.


And when the holidays are over, she will return home to real life. Everyday life. School and chores and all the responsibilities of being eleven years old. But first, we will celebrate!


And Noelle will be our bright little star....

Cali

Simple Pleasures....

It's funny the things that please us. I have been waiting for over a year for Dave to convert some shelves and drawers in the kitchen for me. Dave is my former daughter-in-law's husband. He is an excellent carpenter and a very nice man.


Today was the day! The new shelves were built and the one drawer, replacing two small ones, is done, too. It only took him about an hour to install them, too.


And now? I have more room for cooking utensils and knives in the one BIG drawer, instead of two, awkward, smaller drawers. And the best part? I now have slide-out shelves for my pots and pans. Open the cupboard doors, slide out the drawer, find the pot or pan I want, and close the drawer.


No more getting down on the ground to dig for the perfect pot or pan!


Right now, I am going to go through all the whatchamajiggies that were in the drawer. If I don't know what it is, or how to use it, I probably don't need to keep it. Everything in the cupboard next to the stove will be clean, neat, and orderly. And, easy to reach!


How cool is that?


Cali

The Season of Giving...

Today I went Christmas shopping. I still have a couple of things to get but, for the most part, I am through.

And then, I came home and wrapped everything. I love taking nondescript boxes and making them beautiful with paper and ribbon. I love giving presents, too.

When I was shopping this morning, a very nice young lady was helping me select a special gift. When I finally made up my mind, she asked “and what about you?” I suppose I could have bought something for myself, too, but why?

This is the season of giving. Not the season of gifts, but of giving to others. It doesn't matter how much the gift costs, or how beautiful the wrapping paper is. What matters is that I have something tangible to give to another. Something that represents the intangible feelings that I have for that person.

A bag of oranges says “I care about you and I want to give you something to show you how I feel.” A plate of cookies says the same thing. Or a “coupon” for a back rub, or making dinner, or vacuuming the house. Money is not the gift. Time, effort, love and caring. That's the gift.

If that sounds like too much, then don't participate. Really, don't. If gift-giving is a chore, then they aren't really gifts, are they?

Cali

The Art of Happy-Ness

Happiness truly is homemade. We have to look inward to find happiness. It doesn't come from others, or from things. It comes from within.

There are many things I can do to initiate happy feelings:

Pet my dogs.

Walk in the sunshine.

Spend time with a good friend.

See the ocean again.

Marvel at a sunrise, or sunset.

Watch the stars twinkling in the sky.

Read a book.

Watch a movie that I love.

Decorate my house for Christmas.

Call my children.

Bake cookies.

Spend quiet time, meditating on what is important to me. And what is not.

Give myself permission to play hookey from my responsibilities.

At least, for a little while.....